


Just Another Nobleman

by pouncepounce



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Drama & Romance, Intrigue, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pouncepounce/pseuds/pouncepounce
Summary: Before becoming the Hero of Ferelden, before the Blight, before that fateful night, Aedan Cousland was just another nobleman, the younger son of Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever. He had family, he had friends. He had lovers, too. He had a brain and he had a heart. An origin story and beyond, centered around the human noble and the people who he shared his life with.  T for themes.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
“Two more moves and I have you.” Aedan spun the freshly captured queen in his fingers. He slouched deeper into his armchair, the familiar scent of Antivan leather filling his sinuses as he sighed. “Don’t let your father catch you making moves like that,” he said, the pitch of his voice still awkwardly between boy and man.  
Across on the other side of the chess board was a stumped Anora, sitting in an identical armchair with forehead in hand. She eventually knocked over her king piece, signalling her resignation. “It should have worked! She’s the most powerful piece in the game!”  
“You’re too aggressive with it,” Aedan explained in a matter of fact tone. “Putting the Queen in a centre square is usually a bad idea.”  
Anora’s ears reddened and she deflected with a pout. “It’s a stupid game anyway. Far too rigid. Nothing like the real world.”  
The young lord of Highever let out a chuckle. “You should stick to what you’re good at, then. Bookkeeping and sucking up to men with silver hair,” he teased.  
“Economics and politics, Aedan. Economics and politics.” She glared at her friend, and then at the board. Her eyes softened, along with her voice, “Another game?”  
Aedan allowed a grin. “Sure,” he replied simply.  
The library door burst open, a blond-haired youth sprinting inside. The twenty-year-old man-child was huffing and puffing, face red from exertion. He regained his breath. “You two are still playing that game? Come outside! Fergus and I are going hunting, down in the woods.” He looked to Aedan first, pleadingly.  
Aedan disliked hunting. Your boots were muddied and your legs ached. But you couldn’t say no to such an earnest young man. He relenteded with a nod.  
The blond boy turned to Anora, hands on hips and standing as proudly as he could manage. “Fine,” she replied, her voice filled with exasperation, “But nowhere with too many hills. That is my condition.”  
“Deal.” Smiling from ear to ear, the man-child ran off as fast as he had entered, “Meet you two in the courtyard!” And then he was gone.  
Anora’s forehead fell into the comforting cup of her hand once more. “Almost two full years have passed and still at times I find it hard to believe that he truly is my husband.”  
Aedan’s laughter filled the room a second time.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pair, changed into sturdy leather hunting gear, made their way across to the stables, where the house kept their most well bred horses, reserved exclusively for the royal family and their guests. The rest of the party, already waiting by their mounts, were chattering away under the midday sun. Aedan could count from afar an extra set of horses reserved for the two of them.  
Cailan waved eagerly as they approached, but it was Fergus who spoke first. “Little brother! We were starting to wonder if you’d tricked us and gone back to playing your little board game,” he said to Aedan.  
“How could I ever possibly decline an invitation from the future King of Ferelden?”  
“Oh, don’t remind me,” Cailan grimaced.  
Adriani, the youngest Cousland, suppressed a giggle. “It is an honour to be blessed by your presence, Your Majesty.” She curtsied.  
“Not you too.” The young prince groaned and straddled himself atop his mount as if in an act of desperation. “We’re here to hunt, lords and ladies, so let us hunt.”  
The others followed suit, bar one.  
“Is something the matter, Cateline?” Anora asked.  
A moment’s hesitation and uneasy eyes, before Cateline replied, “I’m afraid I have never ridden before.”  
“Never?” Fergus blurted loudly, earning him a look from Adriani. “Uh, I mean, well,” he scrambled, “Then how do you hunt?”  
“I never have.”  
A pause.  
“Hunting for leisure isn’t very popular amongst Orlesians,” Anora explained. “You will be fine, dear. Aedan will take good care of you, won’t he?” She turned to the boy in question, an ever so slightly dangerous glint in her eyes.  
“Of course, I will,” Aedan replied, straddled almost at attention, “Of course. You can ride with me.” He offered a hand to the young lady, sixteen years old and his elder by two. She took it, allowing him to help her onto his mount in a side-saddle position behind him, reservedly wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hold tight,” he said over his shoulder, ignoring her frankly pleasant scent, sweet and citrusy, and the familiar heat simmering in his chest. She held tight.  
“Good.” Cailan looked on to the lush woods on the western end of the royal estate. “Then let us be off!” He tugged on the reins, darting off in search of prey. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fergus unleashed an arrow, hitting an unsuspecting hare square in the head. He let out a satisfied grunt. “That makes thirty.” He ran down the hill to retrieve the carcass and back up again to the top, where Adriani was sitting cross legged on the grass, her eyes stuck to the miniature canvas she had brought along, filling in the details of the sunset sky in front of her with red-orange water paint.  
“Poor thing,” Adriani remarked with regret, the majority of her attention still devoted to her work in progress, “We must be sure not to waste a single bite for dinner.”  
“A quick death is a good death, or so they say.” Fergus set down his bounty and sat himself beside his sister. “Speaking of poor things.”  
Adriani finally looked up from her work, and she saw it. The sight of Anora scolding a sheepish Cailan in the distance, fifty meters or so to the north. She giggled. “That’s rather unfair on Anora, wouldn’t you say? So often you make her out to be some sort of a domineering despot, but she does have a good heart, you know.”  
“If you say so.”  
“I do say so, and besides, she even helped cover up your bumbling mess earlier, regarding Cateline.”  
“But she’s never been riding before. Ever! How was I supposed to react?”  
“Learn when to hold your tongue, dear brother. Silence is at times just as effective a tool as eloquence.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aedan treaded carefully across the rocky riverbed with Cateline close behind. He’d caught nothing so far, despite two attempts on a particularly quick footed fox. Archery had never been his thing.  
“This is something that your people do often?” Cateline inquired, hopping over a particularly large puddle.  
“Oh yes, my people love to hunt. Although I must admit, I find it to be a little boring.”  
“You do not think it cruel? To needlessly end the lives of such innocent creatures?”  
Aedan stopped for a moment and lowered his bow, turning to face Cateline. He shrugged. “Survival of the fittest, I suppose. Although I would think that you would be well acquainted with the notion. Orlais is famous for its Great Game, after all.”  
The young lady’s emerald green gaze held his with an intensity that caught Aedan off guard. The rest of her features were soft and unassuming, but it was those eyes that could disarm him at will, boring into his very soul. “You need not remind me of the Game,” she said with a hint of bitterness, “Every Orlesian is a player, willingly or not, let alone the eldest daughter of a duke.”  
By ‘Orlesian’, she was referring to the upper class, of course.  
“How is it in your case, then?” Aedan gripped the handle of his bow tightly, “Are you a willing player, or are you being dragged into something that you have no desire to be a part of?”  
Cateline raised her eyebrows in surprise and Aedan knew that the girl’s cheeks had turned pink underneath her thick Orlesian blush. She parted her lips to reply, when something else, over and behind Aedan’s shoulder, caught her attention.  
Aedan knew it could only be one thing. He spun around and swiftly raised his bow, taking aim at the fox from before. It was chewing something colourful, wild berries, no doubt, several metres ahead on a tree branch and blissfully unaware of its impending death. The shot was certain, he had it now.  
“Run!” Cateline shouted.  
The fox jerked its head toward the pair. Aedan released the arrow. It dodged the projectile by a hair’s width and darted off deeper into the woods, leaving only a short trail of berries behind.  
“What in Maker’s name was that?” Aedan blurted, an ugly expression crossing his face. Cateline pursed her lips. “Never mind,” he said, waving her off, “The sun’s almost down. We had better head back if we’re to return in time for dinner.”  
The young girl nodded and followed Aedan back the way they had come. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And who caught the bear?” Bryce Cousland asked after swallowing down a particularly chewy piece of meat.  
They were at the dining hall now, all sitting at a table that spanned the length of the entire room.  
“I did! Got it right between the eyes, too!” Cailan exclaimed proudly through a mouthful of game.  
“Foolish, if you ask me,” Anora interjected icily, “We would have been in trouble if you’d missed.”  
Cailan’s smile was all but gone, his eyes lowered to the contents of his plate.  
Eleanor, Teyrna of Highever, took a sip of her wine. “But he didn’t,” she said, “And now we get to enjoy a hearty meal, thanks to him.”  
“The heir apparent, should know better than to-” Loghain stopped abruptly upon seeing the look he was getting from Eleanor. He groaned, taking a large gulp of wine before turning to Cailan. “Nice shot.” The man sounded sincere enough.  
The young prince’s smile returned and he took another oversized bite of his dinner.  
“Don’t forget about my efforts,” Fergus said. “I caught thirty hares.”  
“That’s almost a quarter of a bear,” Adriani teased.  
Fergus shrugged, raising a brow, “That’s still more than what Aedan came back with. Five hours in the woods with nothing to show for it? I am sorry, brother, but that’s just embarrassing.”  
Aedan stole a glance toward Cateline, who was trying her best to act as if she were oblivious to the conversation, slicing her meat with refinement. She eats meat! Why is she so against hunting!? He sighed. “What can I say? Killing small animals isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”  
“Ah yes, I’d forgotten that you’d chosen to specialize in board games. Forgive me.” Fergus grinned.  
Aedan glared at his brother across the table.  
Loghain chuckled before his expression turned into something more serious. “There is nothing for you to be ashamed of, Aedan. Wars are fought by soldiers, but they are won by generals. The both of you,” he motioned to Fergus and Cailan, “could learn a thing or two, and much more, about that.”  
Feeling a little reprimanded, the future teyrn and king fell silent and returned to attacking their meals. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bryce couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his family and friends dining together. For decades, they had come together at the royal estate in private, at least once or twice a year, to share stories, experiences and lives with each other. To spend time together, with just about the only people who they could treat as equals, without having to worry about rank and protocol, or about being taken advantage of for political gain. His only regret was that Maric could not join them this time around. The king was attending a meeting to help unite the Free Marches. No doubt Maric was wishing he were back here with his family, poor chap. “And how did you find your time in the woods, Cateline? I understand that it was your first time going on a hunt.”  
“Yes, it was a pleasant experience, my Lord.” Cateline replied, omitting her true opinions.  
“Please, dear, call me Bryce. We are family, now that you are officially Aedan’s betrothed.”  
Cateline blushed. “Thank you, Bryce.”  
“Your Highness!” A voice rumbled down the hallway leading to the dining chamber. It was Tolward, the estate’s hulking and grey haired butler, bolting down toward them. He stopped abruptly, as per protocol. “A message, Your Highness, from the coastal guard.” A bead of sweat rolled down the old man’s temple.  
Cailan raised an inquisitive brow and outstretched a hand, where Tolward placed a piece of parchment. The prince unrolled it easily, the bright yellow seal, reserved only for emergency messages, having already been broken by the butler. His expression turned grave, his skin pale and his voice shaky, uncertain, “It seems father is lost at sea.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
Aedan looked on as a part of the crowd, away from Cailan, Loghain and his father, all three of them standing at the front of the assembly. He was a silent observer, the youngest son of a Teyrn, with no official say where he stood.   
“And what about the Teyrn of Highever?” It was Bann Fosnick Eremon of the Waking Sea, his gravelly voice echoing throughout the Landsmeet chambers. “Should he not be given some consideration toward the throne?”  
There were mixed murmurs from the nobles.   
“With all due respect to Cousland,” Eamon said cautiously, “We did not take back Ferelden just to lose the royal line within a single generation. Surely, Cailan should be the one to take up the regency?”  
The Theirin royalists voiced their agreement.   
“Your fetish for Calenhad’s blood will bring about the end of this nation, Eamon,” spat Rendon Howe. “Cailan is still a boy!” Feeling attacked, the young prince straightened his posture in defiance. “Is it so wise to give the crown to someone so ill-equipped, just because of his -”  
Loghain slammed his silverite gauntlets together, the loud clang ringing throughout the hall and snapping the attention of the nobles to its source, including Cailan. “Enough, Howe! You will show respect for your rightful king!”  
“Well, he isn’t king,” growled Howe, “not yet.”  
Aedan overheard Arl Urien of Denerim whisper to someone nearby, that Loghain was only supporting Cailan for the throne to gain influence through Anora and as a mentor. Perhaps the man was correct, perhaps he wasn’t. Either way, Aedan knew and respected how deep Loghain’s love for Ferelden went, how every action the war hero took was motivated by the hope that the nation would continue to flourish.   
As for Howe, well, Aedan had always thought him to be overambitious and a little too self-interested. The Arl was an old friend of his father’s, a brother in arms, something the opportunist would no doubt try to take advantage of if the Couslands really were to ascend to royalty. But he didn’t mind; it was just politics, after all, as Anora often put it.  
“Do I get a say in this matter?” Bryce raised his hand in an attempt to silence the crowd. The noise died down. “Although I am honoured to even be considered for the throne, I am afraid I must decline. Not because of the issue of blood, but for stability. Would it really do the nation good, so soon after being freed from occupation, to have to carry the burden of such a drastic change in the monarchy? It was Maric that freed us. It is only fitting that his son continues to lead us, to lead Ferelden. 

“And I, for one, believe that Cailan is no longer the boy you, old friend,” Bryce motioned to Howe, “claim him to be. He is a man, capable and strong, and perhaps most importantly, he has a good heart. Is that not what is important in a ruler?”  
Although Aedan believed that Cailan was in fact not ready to take up the throne just yet, he did concede, in his own mind, that his father had raised a valid point. A ruler’s character was just as important as his technical ability. Skills could be taught, by advisors, scholars and generals, whereas a person’s character was far less malleable beyond a certain age.   
The murmurs started again, but this time they were mostly of approval. Howe was silent, of course. Bryce, Loghain and the not-so-little Cailan shared a look, the three men coming to an unspoken agreement.  
“Then let us decide, here and now,” Cailan announced, eyes unusually full of determination. “Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet, who will swear fealty to me, Prince Cailan Theirin, as Ferelden’s regent?”  
Silence.  
“Highever swears fealty, Your Highness.” Bryce kneeled before the new regent, bowing low.   
Loghain followed. “Gwaren also swears fealty.”  
With the two Teyrns having done so, the rest of the chamber had no other choice but to follow in declaring their allegiance to their newly appointed head of state.   
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“You will send out additional search parties into the sea, immediately,” Cailan declared.   
They were in the drawing room now, in the east wing of the royal palace, all sitting on luxurious couches surrounding the fireplace. The walls were filled with great paintings of great people created by great artists, only Maker knew how many Ages ago, with a central chandelier hanging proudly from the ceiling. Aedan found himself between Fergus, who was clearly itching to go out into the night and look for Maric himself, and Cateline, quietly sipping on a modest glass of brandy and trying her best to look composed. She was the only one with a drink.   
“It is already done, but it still leaves the matter of financing,” Loghain said, hands clasped and elbows on his knees. The lines in his face were deeper than usual. “We will search for Maric with all of the fleets we can muster, but we must also maintain a sizeable presence on land and acquire a larger fleet if we are to organize a proper search. We must do nothing that may be taken as a sign of weakness, especially by the Orlesians.” He said the last word with venom, then quickly glanced to Cateline as soon as he had, his expression equal parts apologetic and suspicious.   
“It is unbecoming of you, my lord,” Adriana said coldly, “to treat my future sister-in-law as an enemy of the state.”   
Loghain opened his mouth to retort.  
“It’s okay,” Cateline assured softly, taking Adriana’s hand in hers, wearing the best smile she could conjure.   
“My apologies,” Loghain said roughly, “I meant no offense.”   
“There is nothing to apologize for,” Cateline replied, taking a rather large sip of her drink. She sounded genuine to Aedan, although whether it really was would be a matter for a later time.   
“Then we are left with no choice.” Bryce sighed, returning to the task at hand. “We will have to ask for our vassals’ aid, if we are to keep the treasury from running dry.” He looked to Cailan. “I offer my full support, of course.”  
The prince nodded in thanks.   
“As do I.” Loghain pinched his brow. “But many of the others,” referring to the Arls and Banns, “aren’t going to like it. We must pay careful attention to our rhetoric if we are to convince them to build us ships and offer up their men to guard the borders.”  
The group fell silent.   
Anora was the first to speak again, her voice unwavering. “There may be an alternative solution.” She hesitated, stealing a glance at Fergus, who was obliviously playing around with a bit of loose fabric on his dinner clothes. The future teyrn was a skilled warrior and a good leader, but only in battle; ever since he was little, Fergus had never been very patient during discussions such as these.   
“What do you suggest, my dear?” Loghain encouraged, keen to hear what his daughter had to say.   
“The idea is relatively simple, really. Fergus can marry Lady Oriana a year early.”  
The mentioning of his name perked Fergus’ attention, although he was obviously confused. “What? Why? How would that help in any way?”  
Anora’s eyes went icy cold and Fergus shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Aedan couldn’t entirely blame her; his brother was a little dull sometimes. He interjected before the young Mac Tir could start her reprimand. “Oriana will come with a substantial sum of her father’s money, brother, a dowry. Enough to build several fleets and to keep them deployed for years.” The daughter of an extremely wealthy merchant in Antiva, Oriana had been Fergus’ betrothed for the last five years.   
“That could work, yes,” Bryce considered thoughtfully, “That could work. The only difficulty would be convincing the Chantry to recognize the marriage of a seventeen-year-old boy.”  
Aedan had always wondered why the Chantry insisted that men could not marry until they were eighteen, while there were no such restrictions for women. The number ‘eighteen’ seemed arbitrary, but that was just how things were.  
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Loghain declared with confidence. “The Grand Cleric will surely support our cause.”  
“I wish I were as confident as you are. After all, they claim their allegiance is with the Maker, first and foremost. I will have a word with Elemena, though, first thing tomorrow morning.”  
“No,” Cailan objected loudly, probably a little more so than he had intended. “No,” he repeated, voice lowered, “I will speak to Cleric Elemena. If she is to bend the laws of the Maker for the sake of my father, it would only be proper that his son asks her to do so.”  
“Well said.” It was Eleanor, who had thus far remained silent, her expression glowing with warmth. “It is settled then.”  
“I have no objections about the plan, by the way. You know, if anyone wanted to hear what I had to say, or anything,” Fergus joked, deadpan.  
Anora tried and failed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. The others shared a laugh, a reprieve from the dire topic they had been discussing.   
Cailan smiled from ear to ear, before turning somewhat sheepish. Loghain placed a reassuring hand on the regent’s shoulder. “You will be fine. Be respectful, but not a coward. Do not let her bully you, ruler of Ferelden.”   
The door on the west end of the room opened, gently, and Parry, the palace butler, announced that dinner was ready to be served.   
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Aedan walked groggily through the dark hallway. He had awoken in the middle of the night, his throat terribly dry. The dinner roast had been especially salty. He walked quietly, careful not to wake anybody up, making his way to the stairs that led down to the cheese cellar. Being an adolescent boy, he was almost always peckish and up for a snack.   
The palace was mostly silent. He could make out the gentle autumn breeze outside through an open window, the rustling of trees, his own slipper-padded footsteps, of course, and … weeping?  
He stopped by the door to his left. It was Cateline’s. His throat suddenly felt even drier and he gulped emptily. Raising his fist to the door, he hesitated a little, then proceeded with three quiet raps, so gentle that nobody else could hear.   
The crying stopped abruptly.  
“It’s Aedan,” the young lord whispered. Not sure of what to say, exactly, he fell silent.  
A pause.  
“Yes?” Cateline whispered back eventually.   
Another pause.  
“Well, you see, I was going downstairs for some water and cheese, but, well, mother doesn’t really like it when I snack in the middle of the night. You know how mothers can be.” Cateline remained silent. “So, I was thinking that if you were to accompany me, then even if we were to get caught, she would let me off lightly.”   
Aedan heard movement on the other side. The door opened, and there Cateline stood in her nightgown and slippers, which was just about all he could make out in the dark. “Just this once,” she whispered.  
Aedan grinned.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The warm light of a candle placed atop the table filled the otherwise dark and cheesy room. Roll upon roll of a countless variety of cheeses populated the shelves, each marked with a detailed label. The pair sat on either side of the table, each with a glass of water, and Aedan with a generous serving of dairy delight.   
He put his fork down on his plate, still only midway through his snack. “Sorry about earlier tonight.” Cateline looked confused, genuinely, raising a brow. “You know, when Loghain was being…”  
“Like I said, there is nothing to be sorry about,” Cateline assured quickly.  
“No. I should have defended you. It wasn’t a direct insult, but I still should have defended you.” Aedan clenched his fists. He had failed her. “You are my betrothed, and I owe you that much.”  
The young girl turned scarlet, made clear and apparent without her usual makeup. “You owe me nothing,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible and with a smile that brought Aedan more joy than any cheese ever could.  
He looked at the woman sitting opposite him and realized that, come to think of it, this was the first time he had ever witnessed Cateline’s bare face. He observed closely, taking in the elegance of her features; her deep green eyes, her sharp nose, her supple cheeks, the tiny little mole just to the left of her lips, her lips, glowing in its natural pale pink under the candlelight.   
He felt a sudden fullness in his groin.   
He cleared his throat, picked up the fork and resumed his assault on the remainder of the cheese.


End file.
